Not So Drunk as You Think I Am
by bhoney
Summary: E/O CHALLENGE The boys are investigating mysterious disappearances in logging country. Is there something supernatural in the woods? Is that what's taken Dean? Set sometime before Season 4. New chapters added by request.
1. Three sheets to the wind?

_This drabbling thing? Much harder then it looks. Brevity is not my strong suit. LOL _

_For those waiting for updates on my other stories, the last chapter of "Thanksgiving, Winchester Style or, The Importance of Pie" is up now. The second chapter of "The Soul Collector" will go up this week. And now, my first-ever drabble. Woo hoo!  
_

Challenge word: sheet

Word count: 100

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

"Hey, kid!"

Sam veered back, hating to spare the time, but needing _trouble_ and _attention_ even less.

"Your buddy get back to the room all right? He looked three sheets to the wind."

"He's here? You saw him?" Sam's words were sharp as the knives twisting his gut. _Relief. Fear._

"Yeah, came stumblin' back a few minutes ago. You didn't—" the night clerk trailed off; he was talking to air.

Sam headed for the room at a dead run. _Dean._ Stumbling? That meant unsteady…uncoordinated…_hurt._

Because Sam knew his brother hadn't been out at some bar, drinking.

He'd been _taken._


	2. “Steady, big brother, I gotcha”

_Thanks for the great response to my first drabble! I didn't have any real plan to write more of this story, but so many of you asked so nicely that I decided to give it a shot. I hope you like this. Please let me know if you want me to continue with more of it._

_In the meantime, if you're looking for a longer "Dean gets taken" story, check out my new multi-chapter fic, "The Soul Collector." The second chapter will go up this week._

_Happy Birthday, woodburner!_

Challenge word: steady

Word count: 100

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 2**

Dean swayed, blinking. The room lacked the brother he'd fought to see.

Sam sprinted frantically. The door stood open, an ominous sight. "Dean!" _Panic. Fear._

Dazed eyes met his. "Y'okay, S'mmy?" Unconsciousness' bony finger beckoned. Legs buckling, Dean went down.

Leaping, Sam caught him. "Steady, big brother. I gotcha." Brushing hair back from Dean's forehead, a goose egg oozed blood; bruises and scrapes everywhere. "What happened to you, man?"_ Sorrow. Guilt. Worry._

_Relief._ They were together. Everything else was fixable.

First, ice and the med kit—Sam had a brother to mend. Then…Heaven help _what_ever or _who_ever had taken him.


	3. Vigil

_Wow, this chapter was a really challenging one. Originally, it was three times as long as this and it was wicked hard to get it down. I hope you like where it ended up._

_Doing these drabbles has inspired me to try another writing experiment. I hope you'll take a look, the first chapter's up now and it's a drabble-and-a-half, LOL. It's called "Always With You." I'd love to hear what you think of it!_

_Happy Birthday, PADavis!_

Challenge word: dry

Word count: 100

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 3**

"S'mmy…gotta warn…" _Confusion. Disorientation._ Movement jostled newly-cracked ribs. _Agony._

Sam rubbed gritty, drought-dry eyes; worry eclipsing exhaustion. "I'm here, Dean. It's okay, man. I'm fine."

"Gotta…stop askin' quest'ns…" Concussed exhaustion stole syllables; left urgency. "Gotta…S'mmy…" Heavy-lidded eyes blinked, searching.

Sam leaned into Dean's sightline, holding his gaze. "Dean, man, I'm _here._ I'm _okay._ No more questions, bro, I promise," he placated.

The mantra soothed.

Recognition finally—_finally—_sparked. "S'mmy?"

Frown-tightened muscles melted. "Yeah, Dean, I'm here."

"Good," Dean breathed, now boneless. "Tired."

"Just sleep. Not goin' anywhere." Large fingers gently circled a rope-chafed wrist, anchoring.

Reassured, Dean coasted into sleep.


	4. Goodwill worn away

_Yeah, so…it's really hard to advance a plot in just 100 words a week. I'm trying, though. Hope you're all still interested in the story._

_For those who were waiting, another chapter of "Always With You__" went up last night.  
_

_I did a separate fic for this week's Get Well challenge for PlatinumRoseLady. It's called "The Power of Suggestion." I hope you'll check it out, too._

Challenge word: worn

Word count: 100

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 4**

"This is not _okay,_ Dean!" Sam raged. "We're so far from _okay_ it's not even on the same map!" _Fury. Fear. Helplessness. _He needed to smash something, paced instead. "You could've…could've _died_ out there, Dean, and I wouldn't…I should've…I should've _been_ _there._" Emo eyes leaked guilt, bled worry, pleaded forgiveness.

"Glad y' weren't," Dean slurred.

"How can you even _say_ that, man?"

Dean shrugged, pained. "Y' were safe."

Sam huffed. "Yeah? Well, I can tell ya who's _not_ gonna be safe, Dean. Whoever did this is going to _pay,_" Sam promised darkly, goodwill worn away by brotherly love. "Friggin' _loggers_."


	5. Logger Alert

_Another chapter of "Always With You" is up. Hope you'll check it out._

_Happy Birthday, Di'nee! _

Challenge word: alert

Word count: 100

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 5**

"Again, Dean. The _whole _story."

"Sam…"

"**Again.**"

_One minute he was interviewing witnesses. The next—ambush. Four angry lumberjacks. _

_He stood his ground. Ham-sized fists flew at him. Dodge. Parry. Punch. Pivot. _Stay alert._ Dodge. Parry. Punch. Pivot. _Keep moving._ Dodge. Parry. Punch. Piv—ribs cracked under hard wood. He staggered. Dodge. Parry. Pun—pain rattled his skull, blood poured. He went down. Lumber hit pavement, a distant thunk. _

**…_jagged darkness… _**

_A hard truck bed. Wrists bound, rope so tight it bruised bone. Tires squealed._

**_…_****…_blaring darkness_****_…_****_…_**

_Nausea. Dizziness. Agony. _Stop askin' quest'ns, S'mmy. Can't get you, too.

**_…_****_…_****…_consuming darkness…_****_…_****_…_**


	6. Belly of the beast

_Since you've all been so patient with the unfolding of this story, I decided to give you a double drabble this week. I also did a regular drabble for the challenge called "The Things That Remain." I really hope you'll check it out._

Challenge word: passion

Word count: 200

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 6**

"So…nothing supernatural in the woods, then?"

"Oh, something's out there, Sammy. Count on it."

_Consciousness crept in on stealthy feet, carrying the smell of old earth—damp, cloying. The rotting-passion-fruit scent of death…decay…rank despair permeated air, gagging him. _

_Crouching darkness surrounded him._

_He struggled to sit, agony making darkness flutter like raven's wings. Vulnerability. Terror. _Push it down. Stay calm. Breathe. _Questing fingers liberated the boot knife, cut through rope. The dry rattle of bone on bone as something fell._

_His head pounded a too-fast heartbeat. Danger. Danger. Danger. _

_Sammy? Adrenaline spiked, he tried to stand. Stumbled; went down. Pushed on. Danger. Sammy. Danger. Sammy._

_Devouring velvet-clawed darkness lurked. _

_He fumbled in his pocket. _Can't fight what you don't see._ The lighter snick-snicked; darkness retreated. A cave filled with bodies. No—bones. Stripped-of-their-meat bones. A lair. _

_No Sam anywhere. Thank God. Sammy was okay, for now. Passionate, knee-buckling relief. The lighter went out. Snick-snick. A tiny flickering flame all that held gobbling darkness at bay. Light guttered, fuel nearly spent._

_Desperate, he grabbed a thighbone, wrapped discarded clothing around one end; a makeshift torch. Lighter pressed to cloth just as flame extinguished. The macabre torch flared. _

_Noise nearby…he wasn't alone._


	7. Out of time

_I did a separate entry for the wee!Chester challenge this week called "Life's Lessons: Evil Doesn't Stand a Chance." I really hope you'll check it out._

_Since some of you asked so nicely, I did another double dose for you this week. Hope you enjoy! I'd love to hear what you think!_

word: time  
word count: 200

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 7**

"So how'd you get away?"

"Hold your horses, dude, I'm gettin' there. Y'said you wanted the _whole_ story."

"Fine."

_Shadows lengthened, slid closer, coffin-quiet. Sibilant breathing pierced the darkness. When the bone torch illuminated the cave mouth, one shadow didn't dissipate. Solid, hulking darkness. A shadow shaped like a man, only…not. Impossibly larger…clawed…glowing eyes…pores oozing malice. _

_It moved __toward him, __quicksilver-fast. Flickering light gave the appearance of slow motion, time crawling frame-by-frame. Flicker. Coming. Flicker. Closer. Flicker. Looming. Flicker. Reaching. Flicker. _

_One large clawed arm lunged for him. He thrust the torch at it. It backed off, not liking the light, circling. He retreated toward the cave mouth. Almost there. Another lunge. Thrust torch. Retreat. Lunge, thrust, retreat—a choreographed dance. Cool outside air hit his skin, shadows' caress. _Relief._ He'd made it. _

_The breeze extinguished the torch. _Alarm. Dread.

_The creature pounced, dragging him toward darkness. Instinctively, the iron boot knife slashed. Shrieking, its grip faltered. He bolted._

_One arm braced cracked ribs, clutching the useless torch. The other gripped the knife. He ran, stumbling. One path, another. How much time since he'd been taken? Impossible to tell. _Get to Sammy. They'll go after him next._ He ran faster._


	8. Glimmer of hope

_I wrote a separate entry for the birthday challenge called "Life's Lessons: No Balm Like a Brother.__" I really hope you'll check it out._

_I did another double dose this week because I'm getting ready to go on vacation and probably won't be able to post while I'm gone. Hope you enjoy! I'd love to hear what you think!_

_Happy Birthday, SupernaturalGeek!_

word: glimmer  
word count: 200

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 8**

"Then you came back here?"

"_Ahem._"

"Right, interrupting. Sorry."

_Movement behind him. No footfalls, just rustling trees and eerie quiet, birdsong silenced. Thick overhead canopy blocked light, artificial darkness massing, suffocating sound. _

_He fell, pain exploding. Torch leveraged him up. Run! _Can't breathe. _Keep moving. _Ribs on fire. _Keep moving!_ Get to Sammy. _**Keep moving!**_

_The creature eased back…let him dream of escape. Playing him. _

_A flash of darkness—he rammed a hard, cold roadblock. He swung the thighbone, batting for the stands. Impervious, the creature seized him. Contact points spread numbness…burning shadows…coldfire. Opaque eyes glimmered, timeless as death. He lashed out, knife slicing black flesh, whisper-soft. _

_An infuriated scream. Power pulsed, shadows coalesced. He pivoted, dodged into pathless forest, running blindly, hopelessly. _Never give up. Keep moving!

_Twists and turns. Panting, ribs burned agony through veins. Malevolence at his back. Branches scratching face and arms…roots tripping feet…the forest itself against him. Claws tore the back of his shirt. He stumbled. _Exhaustion. Despair.

_But then…a glimmer of light ahead. Tents around a fire, laughter. Safety. _

_Depleting energy reserves, he lunged, falling into the campsite. Rolled to his back, knife ready. _

_With a frustrated shriek, obsidian shadows melted into the woods._


	9. Time spent waiting

_I recently got back from vacation so I'm still catching up on review replies. I will get to all of them; it just might take me a little time. Thanks for your patience and for the feedback._

_I used one of the challenge words I'd missed while gone for this chapter. I've been doing longer chapters, with some present and some flashback in each. But this chapter is regular length, so I've broken it up. This one takes place in the present; the next will be all flashback, picking up directly from here. This chapter's mainly transitional, but it does give some more info on the creature, and I figured a transitional chapter was (hopefully) better than no chapter at all. I hope you'll let me know you're still reading._

_Another chapter of "Always With You" is up for those reading it._

word: spent

word count: 100

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 9**

"Wait—it took off? Just like that?" _Surprise. Skepticism._

"Wouldn't've lead it to a bunch of civilians if I'd thought it was gonna keep comin', Sam. These things don't like groups. They wait for someone to wander off alone and snatch 'em."

"So you know what it is?"

"Pretty good idea. Gotta check Dad's journal, but…yeah, think so."

"You gonna share with the class?"

"All in good time, Sammy, all in good time." Dean smirked.

"Fine," Sam sighed. "I've spent this long waiting, guess I can wait a little longer. Finish your story—how'd you get out of the woods?"


	10. Into the woods

_I missed several challenge words while I was on vacation, so I made this chapter an extended drabble and worked all of them into it. Hope you enjoy! Just a reminder: this is a flashback chapter, Dean's telling Sam how he got out of the woods._

_Happy Birthday, Miyo86 and Onyx Moonbeam!_

words: pressure, ankle, alarm, ditch

word count: 400

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 10**

_The creature was gone. _Relief. Dread._ He had to get to Sammy. _

_"Hey, guy! You okay?" A male hand pulled him up. A handful of college kids surrounded him—the campers. _

_He took inventory: unbearable pressure when he tried to breathe—cracked ribs; vision that wavered and blurred—concussion. "M'fine." _

"_What _was_ that? What happened to you?" a girl asked._

_ "Bear attack." She gasped. He waved concern off, concentrated on breathing. "M'okay." _

_"A bear, really?" _

_He nodded—no use wasting time with the truth. People saw what they wanted to see. _

_"Right…a bear attacked you. So how'd you get away, then?" the other guy challenged, skeptical._

_He indicated the knife normally worn at his ankle. "Fought it off."_

_"You expect us to believe you fought off a bear? With _that_?" Annoying guy produced a large knife in a decorative sheath, smugly superior. "Maybe if you had one of these…"_

_"Nice knife. Too bad size isn't a substitute for skill, or you'd be in luck." He smirked. _

"_Jack, you told us these woods were safe," the other girl accused, glancing around anxiously. "You didn't say anything about _bears._" _

"_Relax, Jamie. He's lying. These woods are perfectly safe." _

"_Look, believe me or not, I really don't care. Bottom line—it's gonna be completely dark soon. You _don't_ wanna be out here when it is. We need to go. _Now._" Frustration burned his gut. He didn't have time for this. Their presence might've helped before, but now they were just keeping him from getting to Sam. He turned away to make torches for the hike out. It never hurt to be prepared._

_"Maybe he's telling the truth, Jack. _Something_ did that to him," helpful guy pointed out. "Anyway, he needs a hospital. We can't make him hike out alone." _

_He wanted to protest that on general principle, but…whatever got him to Sam quickest._

"_So, what—you're saying we just ditch the campsite, Brian? After lugging all this gear out here?"_

_Something large rustled trees just beyond the firelight's reach. _

_Brian looked alarmed. "Uh, if there's a bear out here, I'm okay with leaving. Jamie, Tara?"_

_The girls nodded, clutching each other._

"_Fantastic," he said sardonically, distributing torches and kicking dirt over the campfire. "Now _that's_ settled, let's get going before it comes back. Everyone stay together—there's safety in numbers. _No_ wondering off alone," he ordered. _

_And they set off into the woods._


	11. Losing the light

_Just a reminder: Dean's telling Sam how he got out of the woods._

word: control  
word count: 100

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 11**

"Really, Dean—helpful guy and annoying guy? Naturally, you know the _girls'_ names."

"Well, yeah."

"Alright—on with it, Casanova."

_Darkness encroached, a ravening beast._

"_Shouldn't we report the bear? Ranger station's— " _

"_Too far. We need out now. Call from town," he grunted. _Exhaustion. Pain. Worry._ Barely upright, he lacked energy for placating civilians—that was Sam's job. _

"_Oh yeah—the _bear,_" Jack sneered, "you supposedly fought off with a pocketknife."_

_He gritted his teeth, controlled the urge for violence. Getting to Sammy was his priority. For that, he'd put up with nearly anything. _

_Rustling nearby. It'd found them._


	12. Out of the woods

_Happy belated birthday, InSecret and Helen Bache! Happy Labor Day to my fellow Americans!_

_I caught up on some words I'd missed and threw in an old word, too, to make it a little longer. Oh, and the last chapter of "Always With You" is up. I hope you'll take a look and let me know what you think!_

_Just a reminder: Dean's telling Sam how he got out of the woods, so the flashback is from his POV._

words: alert, relax, fervor, wall  
word count: 400

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 12**

_The rustling followed, shadowing their steps but just out of sight. Stalking them. Waiting to pick them off._

_"Everyone stay together!" he barked, senses hyper-alert. _

_"Relax, man. Probably just a deer." Jack smirked, "Don't worry, I won't let it get you." He pulled the large knife, moved toward the rustling._

_"Jack, don't be a jerk!" Jamie shouted with fervor. "Stay here!"_

_He growled low in his throat, started after Jack. _Frickin' know-it-all frat boy. Oughta let him get eaten._ Fury. Despair._ _All he wanted was to get to Sam. Was that so much to friggin' ask?!_

_Twigs snapped. Branches swayed as something passed. Darting shadows._

_He caught up, grabbed Jack's coat, hauling him toward the group._

_One shadow, closer than the rest, stayed just out of torchlight's reach. Dark. Insidious._

_Jack struggled, indignant. "Let me go! Freak." _

_His torch fell, extinguished. He looked toward the group's lights—still too far—pulled harder, faster. Tried to ignore agony in his ribs._

_Jack elbowed him, breaking free. Stars exploded as cracked ribs moved. He folded, a groan ripping from him._

_The shadow lunged. Jack's startled shout pierced his concussed brain, an icepick._

_Vision wavered as he tried to stand. Hands gripped tight, pulling him up. Brian. Jamie. He swayed. Tara held the torch high. "It's taking Jack!" _

_Jack screamed like a girl as something dragged him off._

_He beat against the wall of pain, exhaustion holding him back; broke through. Shook off helping hands, grabbed the iron knife, and ran into the fray. _

_Lunging at the shadow, he stabbed, cold iron sinking deep. Grimly satisfied, he ripped the knife free, stabbed again. A bone-shattering shriek. It melted into the forest. _

_Brian hurried forward, helped Jack up. _

_He panted, ignoring the awed looks and Jack's glare. Scanned the perimeter for danger. It was gone, for now._

_Tara spoke, voice shaky. "What _was_ that thing?"_

"_Wasn't a friggin' _deer,_" he spat at Jack, getting in his face._

_Jack sneered. "Whatever. You just—"_

_He hauled back and punched him, the crack of bone hitting bone an explosion in the twilight. Jack landed hard; wisely stayed put. He jabbed a finger in his direction. " I. Said. Stay. Together. Not comin' after you again." He turned to the others. "Let's move." _

_He retrieved the fallen torch, re-lit it. Then—clutching his aching ribs, wishing heartily for his brother—he led them out of the woods. _


	13. “’Tis but a scratch!”

_Sorry this is a little late, I've been out of town and just got home. A new chapter of my other action/adventure hurt!Dean fic, "The Soul Collector," is up. I hope you'll take a look and let me know what you think!_

_Just a reminder: Dean's telling Sam how he got out of the woods, so the flashback is from his POV._

word: scratch  
word count: 100

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 13**

_"Hey, guy, you okay?" Brian—not called "helpful guy" for nothin'—asked._

_"Peachy. Why?"_

_"Your head's bleeding." _

_He grunted, hoped his head wouldn't explode. "Just a scratch. M'fine." _Defensiveness. Evasion.

_A root, hidden by wavering vision, tried to trip him. He stumbled, shrugging off Brian's help—only Sam got to see his weakness. Cracked ribs jostled; darkness ate vision._

_Swallowing pride—and bile, he _really _felt like puking—he accepted Brian's shoulder. _Anything _to get to Sammy._

_And though he would never admit it—_ever_—even their girly, foreign-made car was a welcome sight when it finally came into view._


	14. Car rides and kid brothers

_Thanks to everyone who did a birthday drabble for me last week. They were great! For those reading the Life's Lessons series, a new one is up, "Life's Lessons: Take One for the Team." Hope you'll check it out._

_I'm sorry to have missed a couple of weeks posting on this. September's been a difficult month for my family. I'm including the words I missed in this one._

_Just a reminder: Dean's telling Sam how he got out of the woods, so the flashback is from his POV. _

words: twitch, over, lap  
word count: 300

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 14**

_He reluctantly squeezed into the backseat of the foreign-made car. He was wedged practically in the girls' laps—a situation he would've relished if not so worried about Sam. Friggin' loggers better not've messed with him._

_One eye twitched. He couldn't believe he'd been reduced to riding in this_…thing_…to get home. His baby was never gonna forgive him. Well, he'd make it up to her—a hand wash 'n wax oughta do it—once this job was over. Couldn't be too soon. This whole case was jacked—freaky forest creatures, homicidal loggers, annoying frat boys, stupid girly cars, no Sam—it was enough to make him wonder who in the universe he'd ticked off this time._

_ Brian carefully navigated the dark country road. "Sure we can't take you to the hospital? You really oughta get checked out." _

_Surprisingly, Jack didn't comment. Guess he'd realized his friends were on Dean's side. The memory of Dean's punch probably didn't hurt any, either._

_"Nah, m'fine. Anyway, left my kid brother back in the room. Gotta make sure he didn't blow the place up while I was gone."_

_"You left him _alone_ while you went hiking?" Tara sounded scandalized. _

_"What?" _Defensiveness. Guilt._ "__Sammy's old enough to be left alone." He considered. "Sometimes. He just has a…tendency to get into trouble if he's on his own too long."_

_"I know what you mean," Jamie offered. "My little cousin, Ralphie—man, that kid gets into _every_thing! You wouldn't think such a little guy could get into so much trouble."_

_"Yeah, well…Sammy's always been big for his age," he responded gloomily. Heaven only knew what the kid had managed to stir up while he'd been gone._

"Dude!" Sam squawked, indignant. "You _do _know I'm not five, right?"

"Whatever, man—just call 'em like I see 'em."


	15. Coming home

_Happy birthday, deangirl1! _

_I'm including the last couple weeks' words in this one. I did another story for the other birthday girl, called "Passin' the Stone." __Hope you'll check it out!_

_Just a reminder: Dean's telling Sam how he got out of the woods, so the flashback is from his POV. _

words: over, road trip, feel  
word count: 300

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 15**

_It was the crappiest road trip _ever—_no snacks, no Impala, no good music. He was trapped in a foreign car with emo music and people who weren't Sam. He bolted as soon as the car reached the hotel, waving off both concern and thanks._

_He broached the modestly-appointed lobby with as much confidence as rapidly-fading energy allowed. Once past the front desk—thankfully unmanned—he ducked out a side entrance, heading for their real lodgings two blocks over. Never hurt to be cautious._

_He weaved unsteadily as he walked, vision swimming. Just two blocks, that was all. Two blocks and he could check on Sammy. _Determination. Purpose._ He tripped, gritted teeth against pain, kept going._

_One more block. He rested against a building, breathing ragged and shallow, head pounding. _Keep moving. Get to Sam, whatever it takes._ He swallowed bile, pushed off supportive brick. Bracing ribs tighter, he stumbled forward._

_Half a block now. Lights ahead—so near, but infinitely far. Knees buckling, sheer willpower (and a helpful mailbox) kept him upright. _Suck it up. Get to Sammy. _Black dots twirled before his eyes. He gulped air to ward off the nauseous feeling. Ribs couldn't handle puking and he couldn't afford to lose consciousness. Not when he was _so close_ to reaching Sam. He staggered on._

_Twelve steps left. He could see the room's door, his baby parked outside, helter-skelter. Clearly, Sam's parking skills needed work._

_Eight steps. The throbbing goose egg trickled blood._

_Six. Ribs howled protest at his jerky movements._

_Four. He swayed, desperately grasping consciousness. A hand brushed his baby's side, drew strength from her cool touch._

_Two. The world's edges darkened. Leaning his forehead against the cool metal door, he nearly sobbed in relief. Fumbling the handle, he staggered inside._

_He'd finally made it home._

_**********_

_All right, folks—this brings us up to where the story originally started with the boys meeting up in the motel room. It should be the last of the flashback chapters._

_Special Note: If you_'_re one of the faithful few who_'_ve read and reviewed _every _chapter of _every _story I_'_ve written, please put an asterisk (*) and your first name in your review for this chapter (or PM it to me, if you want to keep it private). Also, please put a D, S, or N next to your name for whether you_'_re a Deangirl, Samgirl, or have no brotherly preference. I have a list, but want to make sure I don_'_t overlook anyone. If you_'_re a review or two short, go review and come back, LOL. I_'_m working on a little surprise "thank you__" __for y_'_all. *grin* The deadline_'_s next Sunday, October 25. Thanks!  
_


	16. Parking lessons

_Well I'm working to wrap this up, but we still have a ways to go. Since installments have to be drabble-sized, it could still be a while. I really hope you'll stick with me. Please leave a review and let me know you're still out there!_

_Now, since the brothers haven't had much interaction the last few chapters, here's some lighthearted banter for y'all—back to more serious stuff next chapter._

word: pry  
word count: 100

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 16**

"Dude, we _so _need to work on your parking skills. If I can ever pry you away from the computer, Geekboy, I'll show ya a thing or two. Clearly, you've forgotten everything I taught you. Sad, really." Dean sighed sorrowfully.

Sam just gaped. "Really, Dean? _That's_ what you got out of all this—that I need _parking lessons?"_

Dean smirked. "Hey, I'm already on my baby's bad side, ridin' in that stupid girly car. Can't get her any more riled up."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well—I was worried about you, man. Parking wasn't exactly high on my list."

************************************************************

_Just a reminder that today's the deadline for leaving me your information if you're one of the wonderful people who's reviewed every single chapter of every one of my stories, so I can include you in the thank you surprise I'm putting together. If you're a few reviews behind but plan to catch up in the next couple of days, let me know and I'll push the deadline back a little._


	17. Like prying hen’s teeth

_Thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing this and my other stories. I really appreciate it! I'm behind on review replies and will be this whole month—I signed up to participate in NaNoWriMo, which is a terrifyingly massive writing challenge in November. If you want to check out my progress, leave encouragement, or harass me if I fall behind on word count, the link is up in my profile._

_I'm going to try and keep up with weekly drabble postings while doing the challenge. Don't know if I'll manage it or not—have I mentioned it's scarily massive? LOL Anyway, I probably won't be able to post anything other than drabbles this month because of the high word count for NaNo. Thanks for understanding._

_I did post an extended drabble last week, a sequel to my story "The Power of Suggestion." It's called "The Power of Duct Tape." *g* __I also finally posted my version of the hypothermic!Dean, protective, caring!Sam challenge that went out for my birthday. It's called "Frozen in Memory." __I hope you'll check them out!_

words: pry, green  
word count: 200

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 17**

Sam eyed his brother critically. "You look like crap," he assessed. Ignoring Dean's attempt to swat away helping hands, he herded his brother back to bed, hovering as Dean gingerly settled himself, trying not to jostle ribs Sam had just re-wrapped. "You need to take it easy," Sam admonished, "not do too much too soon." Getting Dean to take his own injuries seriously? Like pryin' hen's teeth, as Bobby would say…impossible.

"Dude, chill. I've had worse." Dean's accompanying eye roll ignited a fuse.

"Forgive me if I'm a little _freaked out_ here, Dean. You nearly _died _yesterday! Heaven forbid I show some concern," Sam snapped. "You were _missing,"_ his voice cracked, "and I couldn't _find _you, and you could've—" _Anguish. Terror._

"Okay, Sammy. Okay." Dean held up a hand, placating. He remembered when the Benders had taken Sam—the frantic fear, the desperation he'd felt. "I'll take it easy. Just calm down, man. I'm fine, nothing happened to me. I made it out." He leaned into Sam's sightline, green eyes holding hazel. "I'm _fine."_

Sam took a calming breath, forced painkillers on Dean and glared until he swallowed them, then settled into his chair by the bed, keeping watch.


	18. Putting the pieces together

_This installment is extra long, since you guys have had to wait a few weeks for an update. Thanks for your patience; I hope you're still reading! I also posted a humorous drabble with panicky!Dean and steady!Sam called "Turbulence."_

_Thanks to everyone who's left encouragement regarding **NaNoWriMo,** your support has meant so much to me! I finished it earlier this week, and even did more than the required word count. I can't believe it—I actually have a completed novel! I still have to edit it and everything, but I just can't believe I wrote a novel! It's a total miracle, and the best feeling ever! Thanks again to everyone who's asked about it or cheered me on, especially Miyo86 and Swellison, who really went out of their way to cheerlead for me._

_**Happy Birthday** to everyone I've missed doing a drabble for lately because of NaNoWriMo: Ghostey, fallenangel218, PlatinumRoseLady, IheartSam7, The Tribble Master, SidJack. Sorry I couldn't do a drabble for each of you, but I hope your special day was lovely and the coming year is full of blessings._

words: space, jaw, tense  
word count: 300

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 18**

"So we're thinking, what? Loggers are working _with _the creature, taking it food?" Sam looked skeptical.

"More like _sacrificing _to it. Remember those first missing persons reports?"

"Yeah…disappearances from the logging camp spaced weeks apart, like clockwork."

"_Exactly._ Way I see it, these guys found out somehow the creature was behind the missing loggers—maybe stumbled onto its lair." Dean grimaced, remembering. "Must've figured if they gave the creature what it wanted, it'd leave them alone. Worked, too. No loggers have disappeared for months now, just some hikers here and there. From the looks of that cave, it wasn't just missing hikers in there, though."

"Loggers must've been snatching people who were passin' through town. Hitchhikers, maybe—loners no one'd miss. Why go after you, though?"

Dean shrugged. "I was askin' questions about the disappearances, must've worried 'em. I figured they'd target you next, when they heard you were interviewing people."

Sam contemplated that. "Probably couldn't find me—I was out looking for _you _all day."

"Doesn't mean they won't try again. Y'need to be careful, Sammy."

Sam tensed. "They try to mess with us again, they'll be sorry," he said menacingly.

"Least we know they won't snatch anyone else right away," Dean offered. "They probably don't even know I got away yet, but it won't be long before those campers' story reaches town. When it does, they'll put two and two together and come lookin'. We need to be ready."

"Let 'em come," Sam replied darkly, jaw clenching. _Fury. Vengeance._ He relished the chance to get his hands on the men who'd hurt his brother and left him to a horrible death. One way or another, Sam swore they would pay for what they'd done to Dean. And Sam would be _more _than happy to administer that justice himself.


	19. Do what you gotta do

_Another extra-long installment—this should catch me up on all the words I've missed. I hope you're all having a wonderful Christmas season so far!_

words: touch, hold, blanket  
word count: 300

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 19**

"Okay, first things first. Tell me everything you can remember about those loggers." Sam researched as Dean talked and by the time his brother succumbed to the pain pills he'd forced on him, Sam had what he needed.

Dean would kick his butt for this. He'd want to be in on the fight, getting revenge on the guys who'd offered him up as a sacrificial goat. Sam couldn't let that happen. Dean's injuries could become serious if he got in a knock-down-drag-out, as this was sure to be. "Sorry, bro," Sam whispered, touching Dean's forehead to check for fever, "but I've got this one covered. Be back soon," he assured, knowing his brother was deep asleep, but hoping something might sink in and keep Dean from worrying if he woke to find Sam gone.

"I've gotta do this," Sam said determinedly, as if hearing the protest Dean would've voiced if awake. Snugging the blanket around him, Sam prayed his brother would sleep through his self-appointed mission. He donned his jacket, tucking the handgun in his waistband, and spared one last glance at his sleeping sibling. He hated leaving Dean alone, vulnerable, but he should be safe enough. The creature wouldn't venture out of the forest and his human assailants wouldn't have the chance to get to him, because Sam would get to _them _first.

Mind made up, he exited, quietly pulling the door shut. He paused, holding his breath to hear if the sound had woken Dean. Nothing stirred behind the door. Satisfied, Sam squared his shoulders, his gaze hardened steel as he planned his next move. _Reconnaissance. Retribution._

The night was young—plenty of time to dispense some justice, Winchester style. Sam smiled grimly. The men who had hurt his brother should be afraid. They should be _very _afraid.


	20. Lying in wait

words: brand, shoe  
word count: 200

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 20**

Finding the loggers' hangout was easy. Harder was biding his time, waiting outside the bar. Sam wasn't foolish enough to take them all on at once—after all, they'd taken down _Dean_—so the plan was to do this smart. The meds had knocked Dean out, plenty of time to do what was needed and get back before he awoke. Still, Sam couldn't wait long; fury burned a brand in his gut and he itched to return to his brother's side. _Impatience. Rage. Worry._

He glanced at his watch, calculated how long he could stand leaving Dean injured and alone, cut that in half. If they hadn't emerged by then, he'd go in after them, reckless and outnumbered, the Winchester way. Sam smirked, knowing if Dean was in his shoes, that would be Plan A, B, _and _C. He wished his brother was uninjured, that they were going in together. But that's why Sam was there—because Dean couldn't be.

In the end, he waited just long enough for the men to get a few drinks in—he didn't want them sloppy drunk, no challenge there, just too stupid to run when they saw him coming.

He made his move.

**********

_I was only going to devote one chapter to Sam's vengeance on the loggers, but from the comments you guys have been leaving, it seems like some of you have been looking forward to this and I don't want to short-change you or leave you feeling dissatisfied. So now I'm thinking I'll devote a few chapters to his revenge and let you see it in a little more detail, rather than just condensing it into one drabble. Let me know what you think!_


	21. With the Furies at his back

_Here you have it—the start of Sam's vengeance on the guys who attacked Dean. I hope it lives up to your expectations. Please let me know what you think of it._

_Happy birthday, Supernoodle!_

words: belt, drip, fold  
word count: 300

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 21**

Sam was preparing to go drag them out when two loggers stepped outside. Having memorized the faces of Dean's attackers, he recognized them immediately. Apparently, they'd stepped out for a smoke. He smirked, knowing what Dean would say. _Don't they know smoking's bad for their health? Well, guess they're gonna find out._

Sam smiled grimly and stepped from the shadows like Death.

Without preamble, his fists flew. He belted one, then the other, raining blows like hail. Jab. Right cross. Uppercut. Hook. He held nothing back, going in fast and hard. After the initial shock they fought back, even landing a punch here or there. Sam barely felt the blows.

In the end, they were no match for Sam's fury. The first man's nose shattered under Sam's unrelenting fist. As the logger moaned and gagged on the blood pouring down his throat, Sam turned his attention to the other, delivering blows that stole his breath. While he gasped for air, Sam directed a final punch to the first logger, who folded and stayed down. The second reeled back, eyes wide with fear as he grasped the danger he was in. "Why?" he croaked.

Sam's feral grin was chilling. "You went after my brother, that's why. _Big mistake,"_ he growled, face hard and dangerous. He closed in for the kill, knocking the logger out with one last powerful punch. _Vindication. Satisfaction._

Sam loomed over them, watching blood drip from their noses and mouths, and fought the urge to finish them off while they were lying there—to end them like they'd tried to end his brother. But that would be crossing a line. It was a line Sam couldn't afford to cross, not with what lurked inside him. He turned his back on them and stalked inside.

Two down…two to go.


	22. Winchester justice

_Just a reminder: Dean's back in the motel room, knocked out from the pain meds he took. Sam's going after the guys who attacked Dean and tried to sacrifice him to the creature in the woods._

words: bind, twist  
word count: 200

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 22**

Sam picked off another one when he went to take a leak. He gave the man a few minutes to do his business before he followed, closing and locking the door behind him.

"You the guy that used my brother's head for batting practice?" Sam's voice was lethally soft. If the guy'd had any sense, he'd have dived out the nearby window.

"What?" the guy looked confused. Then realization dawned and the bind he was in became clear. "No! It wasn't me! Derek—it was Derek!"

"Where's _Derek?"_ Sam spat the name. _Disgust. Disdain._

"In the bar—playin' pool. It was him, man, I swear," the guy babbled.

"Lucky for you," Sam growled, then launched himself at the logger who'd helped kidnap Dean.

Twisted Sister blared in the background, covering the noise as Sam easily, and with considerable malice, beat the guy senseless. He dragged him into a stall and handcuffed him to the toilet, taking great satisfaction at the sight of his adversary lying face-down, unconscious, on the filthy floor. He snagged the guy's cell phone, a plan already formulating as he walked back into the bar.

Three down, one to go. Time for a little talk with Derek.


	23. The fury of a patient man

_Sorry it's been so long since I updated. I started a new job and it's been massively stressful, so I haven't had much time to write._

_Just a reminder: Dean's back in the motel room, knocked out from the pain meds he took. Sam's going after the guys who attacked Dean and tried to sacrifice him to the creature in the woods._

_Happy Birthday, LivingforTV! There are actually a few idioms in here. Hope you enjoy!  
_

words: curl, warm; also there was a challenge to use an idiom--I used several  
word count: 200

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 23**

_"Beware the fury of a patient man." –John Dryden_

Sam headed toward the alley, confiscated cell phone in hand, but he couldn't resist sizing up his opponent first. His gaze found a large, lumbering man in a red and black flannel holding court at the lone pool table, cocky assurance pouring off him in nauseating waves. It had to be Derek. Edging closer, Sam could hear him bragging to one and all about how unbeatable he was as he demonstrated a new shot he'd perfected. Disdain curled in Sam's gut. Unbeatable? Dean would've wiped the floor with the guy.

A sudden image of Dean's bruised and bloody countenance when he'd found him assailed Sam. He heard again his brother's concussed ramblings that first night when he'd been in and out of consciousness after his ordeal in the woods, the worry in his voice as he'd warned Sam off. He could all too easily imagine Dean lying in the creature's lair, left for dead. Emotion filled Sam, warming his belly with its heat as he stared at Derek. His fists clenched. _Hatred. Malice. _Suddenly it wasn't enough just to beat the crap out of the man who'd done that to Dean.

First, Sam would hit him where it _really _hurt.


	24. Three sheets to the wind, redux

_I'm so incredibly sorry that it's taken me so long to update this story. I never intended to let it go so long, but real life has been a bit of a challenge lately and I haven't had much time to write. I really appreciate those of you who let me know that there were still people out there patiently waiting on updates. I plan to post more regularly on this from here on out until it's complete. This week's a double drabble, using one old challenge word and the current one. I also posted a longer story this week, "Never a Good Zombie Uprising When You Need One," if anyone's interested._

_Just a reminder: Dean's back in the motel room, knocked out from the pain meds Sam gave him. Sam's going after the guys who attacked Dean and tried to sacrifice him to the creature in the woods. He's taken out the others already, and has just spotted the ringleader, Derek, who's showing off his pool moves to the crowd in the bar._

* * *

_**Previously:**_

A sudden image of Dean's bruised and bloody countenance when he'd found him assailed Sam. He heard again his brother's concussed ramblings that first night when he'd been in and out of consciousness after his ordeal in the woods, the worry in his voice as he'd warned Sam off. He could all too easily imagine Dean lying in the creature's lair, left for dead. Emotion filled Sam, warming his belly with its heat as he stared at Derek. His fists clenched. _Hatred. Malice._ Suddenly it wasn't enough just to beat the crap out of the man who'd done that to Dean.

First, Sam would hit him where it _really_ hurt.

* * *

_**Now:**_

words: soft, temper

word count: 200

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 24**

Improvising now, Sam swigged his ordered drink, deliberately sloshing it on himself—stage dressing. Then he stumbled to the pool table, bumping things along the way, projecting drunkenness. It was a familiar role.

He watched Derek show off, snickering conspicuously when he missed a shot. Derek glared, missing again. Sam laughed loudly then covered his mouth, as though chagrined.

Derek got in his face. "Somethin' funny t'you, boy?"

"Li'l ffffunny," Sam admitted with drunken candor, slurring words for effect.

"Oh yeah?" Derek challenged. "And what's that?"

"Y'r pool game," Sam chortled. "You _ssshtink."_

"That so?" Derek's face turned puce. "You think you can do better?"

"Sssshure do," Sam asserted. "B't I ne'er play pool 'lesssssh there's s'm," he inserted a soft hiccup for dramatic effect, "somethin' in it f'r me." He rattled his empty glass. "Coul' use s'm drinkin' money."

"Money, huh?" Derek's eyes glinted joyfully at finding an easy mark. "Fine, let's make it interesting." He pulled out his wallet, slapped bills on the table, waited for Sam to do the same. "Rack 'em." He preened for the crowd, victory imminent.

Narrow-eyed, Sam watched his opponent, reckless anger tempered with determination. Derek was going down.

This was for Dean.

* * *

_I really hope you'll take a minute to tell me what you think of this installment of the story. Also, if any of you are the praying sort, I'd appreciate your prayers. I'm going in for surgery later this week and I'm really nervous about it. If all goes well, I'll post another chapter of this soon._


	25. Not so drunk as you think I am

_I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to update this story. I'll try to post more regularly from here on out. Thanks to those who read and reviewed "Crunch Time." I also posted a longer story, "A Cup O' Kindness," if anyone's interested._

_Happy birthday, Laedie Duske!  
_

* * *

**Previously:**

_Dean's back in the motel room, knocked out from the pain meds Sam gave him. Sam's going after the guys who attacked Dean and tried to sacrifice him to the creature in the woods. He's taken out the others already, and just hustled the ringleader, Derek, pretending to be drunk and beating him bad enough at pool to humiliate him in front of the watching crowd. But that's not enough revenge for Sam, not after what Derek did to Dean…_

* * *

**Now:**

words: red, punish, dawn

word count: 300

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 25**

Sam leaned against the alley wall, feigning illness. Footsteps approached—confident, unmuffled. He'd known Derek couldn't resist trying to get his money—and pride—back. Adrenaline pumped. Finally, he'd have revenge. No—justice.

He smiled drunkenly at the approaching logger.

"What're you smiling at?" Derek spat, swinging at him.

Sam clumsily sidestepped, making it look lucky, baiting the trap. "Not s'drunk 's y'think I am," he slurred—the only warning he would give.

"Good. Then you won't be too drunk to feel _this."_

Sam took the hit, licking blood from his split lip and grinning—now it was self-defense. Derek's smirk faltered.

Sam sidestepped the second fist, grabbed Derek's arm, and rammed him into the brick wall with a satisfying crack. Derek turned, swaying, an angry bear with a blood-streaked face.

"Guess you're not so tough without the 2x4, are you?" Sam taunted. "In a fair fight, when it's not four against one?"

Derek growled, realization dawning: he'd been played. Roaring, he rushed Sam, ham-sized fists flying. Sam dodged, returning his blows, fierce and quick. He took Derek down, but continued to pummel him, unable to stop.

He yanked up Derek's now-unconscious body by the throat. He wanted to punish, wanted to kill, the taste of vengeance coppery in his mouth. _Hatred. Fury._ A red haze descended, a sense of inevitability. He squeezed harder. It felt good to be the one doing the hurting for once. Felt powerful.

His cell phone alarm vibrated. Sam's fingers tightened before he pried them loose, letting Derek thump to the ground. He wasn't doing the world any favors, leaving the guy alive, but Dean wouldn't want him going down that dark path—not for him.

Sam turned his back on vengeance—some things were more important.

He had to get back to his brother.

* * *

_I really hope you'll take a minute to let me know if anyone out there's still interested in this story._


	26. Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

_Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter and let me know there are people out there still interested in this story. A lot of you wanted to know what's been going on with Dean while Sam's been out kicking logger butt. Well, here ya go!_

* * *

words: grapple, sore, tilt

word count: 300

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 26**

Something felt wrong.

The room was cold—empty.

Dean struggled to wake, needing to check...something. Something important. Needing…

It slipped away with consciousness.

xxxXXxxx

Quiet. Too quiet. Something was missing—some_one._

"S'm?"

Dean grappled with sleep, eyelids feeling stitched shut. Friggin' meds.

"Sam!"

_Was he still in the creature's lair, his escape just a dream?_

Least Sammy was safe.

Sleep won.

xxxXXxxx

A motel room.

Just another crappy motel room—not a lair, not this time.

A crappy, _empty_ motel room.

"_Tell me everything you can remember about those loggers."_

Realization dawned. "Sammy! Y'better not be where I think you are!" Dean growled, the sound a glass shard in his brain.

Darkness shimmered, covering the world.

xxxXXxxx

Darkness parted.

A scribbled note on the nightstand, water bottle, pills. No car keys.

What was Sammy thinking, taking them on alone?

Groaning, Dean rolled out of bed.

Broken ribs jarred, bringing blackness.

xxxXXxxx

Grungy motel carpet caressed his sore cheek.

_Sam._

He levered himself up, stumbled to his bag, rummaged inside.

Reality faded in and out, a staticky TV.

He just needed...there! Got it!

Clutching his prize, he swayed, wobbly—a sailor, three sheets to the wind.

The world telescoped.

xxxXXxxx

Least he'd landed on the bed this time.

Sitting up brought vertigo. Guess he'd stay till the world went from kaleidescope-spinny to dry-land solid. _Helplessness. Frustration. Despair._

Sammy'd be okay—he was a Winchester. Besides, it was _Sam—_he'd play it smart. The _loggers_ should be worried. His ginormous little brother could be a force of nature when provoked.

Still...

"Sam," he muttered, hugging his prize. "When you get back..."

Darkness fluttered. Vision's edges darkened, shifted, melted.

"So…gonna..."

Gravity tilted him over, the comforter mashing his face and slurring his words.

"... kick…y'r..."

He fell into the waiting arms of darkness.

* * *

_Bonus points and a special shout-out next chapter if you know what "prize" Dean went to so much effort to retrieve from his bag._


	27. Sammy, you got some 'splainin' to do…

_Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter and left guesses as to what Dean fought so hard to get from his bag. Let's see if anyone got it right. Enjoy!_

word: box

word count: 100

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am**

**Chapter 27  
**

Sam blew through the red light, cell phone alarm vibrating a warning. Dean's meds would be wearing off. Heaven help him if Dean woke to find him gone—it _wouldn't_ be pretty.

He squealed into the lot, parked haphazardly, and crept into the room. Dean was asleep on the bed. _Gratitude. Relief._ Maybe Dean wouldn't even notice his new injuries. _Yeah, right._

He held out hope that Dean hadn't realized he'd left—let alone where he'd gone—till he saw the crumpled note and the box Dean clutched like a prize.

The first-aid kit.

Uh, oh.

He was _so_ busted.


	28. Breaking News

_Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter! Reviews are the fuel that keeps me writing!_

* * *

word: kick, remote (used twice, per Special Challenge to use two different meanings)

word count: 300

**Not So Drunk as You Think I Am **

**Chapter 28**

"Sam! Get in here!"

Sam sighed. He'd known Dean was gonna kick his butt for what he'd done.

But Dean was watching TV. _"…breaking news. Sometime in the early morning hours, terror hit this remote logging camp, leaving four men dead after a violent struggle…"_

Dean clicked off the remote. "Somethin' you wanna tell me, Sammy?"

Sam blanched. Surely Dean didn't think—but in the fury of the night before, even _he_ hadn't been sure he wouldn't cross that line. "No! Dean, I didn't…I _couldn't…_I mean—yeah, I beat the crap out of those guys. They _deserved_ it." _Righteous indignation. Defiance._ "And I'm _not_ sorry they're dead. But I didn't kill them."

Dean nodded, unsurprised. "But you _admit_ you snuck out of here last night and took those guys on all alone. What were you thinkin', dude?"

"I was _thinking_ they nearly killed my brother, Dean! They couldn't just get _away_ with that—they had to _pay!_" Sam glared, arms spread wide.

"And _you_ had to be the one to even the score?"

"Yeah, Dean, I did!"

Tense silence.

"Fine," Dean conceded. "Guess I would've done the same. Better, of course." He nodded toward Sam's raw knuckles, disinfected with the first aid kit he'd passed out retrieving.

Sam rolled his eyes. "So…we thinkin' the creature got 'em?"

"Guess their sacrifice didn't agree with him," Dean smirked.

"Yeah, well—he wouldn't be the first to find you disagreeable," Sam snarked.

"Bite me."

"Y'know, all the times you've nearly been dinner, I'd think you'd quit using that phrase."

"Whatever."

"Probably would've given him indigestion, anyway."

"I do my best."

"So, how we gonna take this thing out? Once you're able to stand for longer than a minute without face-planting, that is."

"Relax, Sammy, I got a plan." Dean grinned.

"Heaven help us."

* * *

_If any of you are the praying kind, please pray for me—I've come down with something and medicine doesn't seem to be helping. I'll try to post again soon._


End file.
